Venomous Lust
by PenShips
Summary: When Voldemort finally wins the war, he keeps the brightest witch of her age alive, convinced she is his granddaughter. Hermione thinks he's lost it but after a fatal spell hits Hermione she is thrust back into time to find out it all concerns her.
1. Prologue

_**Ok, so here it is. Fresh new start. I really hope it was worth it. If not, I just might die =(. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**_

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_11__th__ December, 1997_

Sorrow clung to the damp air like how a wet shirt would cling to a drowned man. It was accompanied by the smell of carrion, high in the frigid air. This was not just a battle scene. This was the end of a war. The end of an era and in its place gave birth to a new, frightening age. The age of the Death Eaters. Moonlight streamed through the grey rain clouds and illuminated the unmoving dead bodies scattered across the battlefield while the wind rustled the leaves on the trees.

In the midst of the quiet chaos, a cadaverous looking woman stood, erect and alone, tears cascading down her face. She howled. It was a broken and grievous sound for she had lost everything conceivable. Only a child on the borderline of adulthood, she had been forced into defending herself against attacks from grown men and women. Robbed of her childhood and innocence, she was a warrior and survivor. Most of all, she was Hermione Granger.

She closed her eyes and listened to thunder rumbling. It was strangely peaceful and calming to her soul, before she had been angry and wanted nothing more than to find Voldemort and make him pay for everything he did but now, she realised no matter how hard she fought or how many Death Eaters she killed, her friends would be lost in all but her memory. Her heart clenched as she recalled the last moments with her friends.

_**Five Hours Ago**_

_Draco slammed his hands on the desk in front of her. She had heard him, raving and ranting to Harry in the next room. When Draco Malfoy turned over to the light side in that warm Summer of 1994, everyone had been surprised, they had all kept tabs on the boy until they had realised he was sincere. It wasn't easy for him; she knew. His friends wanted nothing to do with him, convinced that he had abandoned them in their time of need, and not to mention that his mother and father practically disowned him in a rather public and embarrassing scene on platform 9 ¾. _

'_I forbid you to fight,' he growled, indignantly, pulling her out of her thoughts._

_When a Slytherin started housing with Gryffindors, it was always a bad outcome. Whether it ended in the Slytherin killing the Gryffindors or the Gryffindors killing the Slytherin, or in this rare case, the Gryffindors rubbing off on the Slytherin, it was always terrible. His stubbornness knew no bounds and quite frankly, Hermione was sure he could, under the circumstance, give Ron a good run for his money. Being a Gryffindor herself, she lacked that major trait her housemates seemed to cherish as she had always been a very understanding person. _

'_Now, Draco,' she started softly. 'I assure, I know by far more offense and defence spells than Harry himself. Needless to say, he's going to battle with Voldemort! I will be perfectly fine.' _

_He shook his head and turned on his heels, pacing the room. He tapped his long fingers against his mouth before moving it to tug at his hair in desperation. 'Please, Hermione, hear me out!' he cried. 'Those people know more dark magic than you could even begin to-'_

'_I know dark magic!' she huffed. 'I have read numerous amounts of books on the subject! If push comes to shove, I will use it! I-'_

_Turning to her, he let out a cold, harsh laugh that reminded her of the days when he would look at her with cold and guarded eyes, sneering and mumbling mudblood under his breath. 'No.' _

_She blinked, a little taken back by his callous tone. A firm and proud feminist, she would not allow herself to be talked to like that-especially since he seemed to be turning away as though his word had ended their conversation. Harry appeared in the door way, his face hallowed and void of all joy. From his wet hair and muddy shoes, she could tell he had been outside. Scowling, she turned away her head from both boys, she had warned them-asked them not to step outside of the tent. Knowing full well that a war was underway and Voldemort's men were patrolling, they still put themselves at risk._

'_I agree with Draco, 'mione,' came a sleepy voice from one of the two bunk beds in the room. _

_Her mouth opened and closed, unable to form words. 'I don't believe this!' she curled her hands into fists and stamped her feet like a small child. 'I helped just as much as everyone and you-you-you treat me like a child!' _

_For the first time, Harry's face broke out into a smile, though it was small and nothing like how he used to laugh and smile before the war, but it was still something. 'You're acting so much like a child, I don't see how else to treat you.'_

'_Precisely which is why if you don't behave, we'll take away your books,' Draco added, his posture relaxing as the atmosphere of the room lifted slightly. _

_Loud raucous laugh spilled from Ron's mouth as he sat up in the small bed and swung his legs over the side. He ruffled his hair and moved in the confined room to hug Hermione, where he mockingly comforted her. 'Now, now, Potter, Malfoy,' he scolded. 'It's not her fault she has the understanding of a teaspoon.' _

_The boys shared a look before the entire tent exploded with laughter that flowed so easily from their throats. Despite the joke being at her expense, she couldn't help but crack a smile. It made her happy to know that though the world outside was filled with darkness and desolation, within her little bubble, with her two best friends and one boy who might or might not be the one, everything was just perfect._

As the rain started to pelt downwards to the ground in large painful drops, she fell to her knees, her weaken body unable to hold her up any longer. She was both emotionally and physically drained, and she wasn't sure how long she could take the world around her. Everyone she knew and loved; gone, dead, deceased. What point was there of her living on? The era of the Death Eaters surely would bring pain and misery to any muggle or muggle born and she for one, had no intention for being belittle by the ignorant bigots.

Despite the suicidal thoughts in her head, she knew that no matter the circumstance that she could never bring herself to take her own life. It wasn't that she was scared of death but it was that she knew that by taking her life she would not be able to face Voldemort and prove to him that he would not-_shall not _break her and though it was pointless to fight, she would continue. Another part of her knew that she couldn't face Harry and Ron in the afterlife. She had failed them miserably, she promised to be there for them but she wasn't and they had died because of her.

Taking her wand she transfigured herself so she wouldn't look like Hermione Granger, she wasn't stupid and she knew Voldemort probably had all his Death Eaters looking for the brains of the 'golden trio'. She decided that her change in appearance would be symbolic; green eyes for Harry, blonde hair for Draco and a large amount of freckles scattered on her nose for Ron. So every time she looked in the mirror, she would see them all staring back at her-another reason why she would continue the moot fight against the Death Eaters.

It wouldn't make much difference but at least she wouldn't be giving in.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**_

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_1__st __September, 1991_

It was an exciting year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for this was the year that Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and only survivor of the killing curse, would return to take his rightful place amongst his fellow kind. He would be welcomed back in society with open arms and gracious smiles, nothing short of what was deserved for the little eleven year old hero. Things, however, in the school was going to be different as the students had been told the year before by the Headmaster and again by their Head of House, not to treat the young saviour any different than they would any other first year.

The advice seemed to have fallen on deaf ears as the first years poured into the Great Hall, little Harry Potter would feel the uncomforting stares of many students who just had to get a glimpse of the killer of the darkest wizard of all time. There was speculation as to which house Mr. Potter would end up in. Many who knew his parents, immediately stated that Gryffindor was a best bet but some arrogant Ravenclaws chided those and informed them that to save the world, there at least had to be some brains in the noggin of the hero so he had a fair chance of ending up in _their_ house, that was rebutted by the Hufflepuffs who claimed that he must be loyal and hardworking to be the saviour so _obviously _he should end up in Hufflepuff. As usual Slytherins kept their opinions amongst themselves, ever the tight knit group.

'Abbott, Hannah,' Madame Hooch called out.

Minerva McGonagall drifted in and out of consciousness, she was immensely thankfully for Madame Hooch who had taken her place after Minerva had feigned a little sick. The first year ceremonies always bored her, if she was a little honest. It seemed tedious to repeat the same thing over and over and over again. If she was completely honest to herself the only thing remotely interesting about this particular ceremony was the fact that the saviour of the wizarding world would be sorted into a house. Even that, in all truthfulness, Minerva couldn't be bothered about. It was clear to her that the boy's parents were both in Gryffindor and the Potter family had a long history of being in Gryffindor and she hardly doubt the Potter boy would even break that age old tradition.

'Granger, Hermione!' Madame Hooch called out, glancing warily at the sea of children.

Minerva's chest tightened as she watched a young bushy haired girl nervously walk up to be sorted into one of the four houses. Perhaps, it was because she resembled one of the very best friends she had made at Hogwarts when she had attended the school herself. She wasn't sure. Atlas, Minerva knew it could not be as dear Jane had perished in a fire started in the Forbidden Forest, which made it impossible for her to have any children to carry on her bloodline-yet there was the little eleven year old child who look, albeit a tinier younger version, so much like her friend that Minerva had to restrain herself from calling out her name.

Beside her, she could feel Quirrell squirming uncomfortably in his chair and when she glanced at him, she saw he too was watching little Hermione Granger with a glint of disbelief in his eyes but there was also something else she couldn't place. Insatiable lust? No, it was more like irrevocable love. She almost snorted and turned her attention to Madame Hooch as she was placed the Sorting Hat on Miss Granger, Quirrell was annoying and weird, and Merlin help her, his speech pattern made her want to run for the hills, but she knew he was not a paedophile.

Her heart almost altogether stopped when the sorting hat called out that the young Jane Ambrose look alike was to be housed in Gryffindor. With a smile that looked identical to Jane's, the little bushy hair girl bounded off to sit down at her house's table. In that moment, she promised herself that she would talk to her and see if she was anything like her old school friend. It couldn't be mere coincidence that she bore such a resemblance to Jane, there must be a family connection, perhaps a long forgotten aunt who had been casted long ago from the family tree because of her involvement with muggles.

The little girl, Hermione Granger and Jane Ambrose similar looks had been so uncanny that even after the feast, it was still fresh in her mind and she was itching to talk to Dumbledore about it. As usual, Albus simply gave her a quiet smile with twinkling eyes and acknowledged that the Granger girl looked a little Jane. He was out of his mind-she looked exactly like her. The splitting image. Minerva shook her head and decided perhaps she was the one who was hallucinating about Jane; after all, she did miss her so.

As she was heading to her chamber a few minutes after the discussion with Albus, Quirrell fell in step with her. She grimaced inwardly, there was just something about the man that Minerva did not like. She wasn't sure what it was but she definitely knew it was not a good vibe she was getting from him. He was just plain awkward and weird, no matter how many times she tried to get him to come along to one of the teachers gatherings, he always had the same tired answer. It wasn't even that he was a reclusive, which she knew all about as Flitwick himself was one and she considered him to be a great and trusted friend. Quirrell was just...different, on a whole other level.

'St-st-st-strange girl, Gran-ge-ge-ger,' he stuttered, twisting and wringing his hands nervously.

Minerva stopped dead, her body tensing visibly. 'What did you say?'

'I wa-wa-was ju-ju-ju-just saying that shhhhhe looked an awful lot like th-th-that Je-je-je-Jean Embrose girl. The one tha-tha-that d-d-d-d-died in the Forb-b-b-b-b-bidden Forest,' he said, gripping onto the front of his robes for dear life.

'Oh,' she relaxed a little. 'It's Jane Ambrose.'

He nodded and turned away from her, walking in the direction of the tower where he resided. Stopping two feet from her, he turned back. 'Sh-she did look like her, th-th-though?'

Dumbly, she nodded and Minerva swore she never felt greater affection for Quirrell in her life. If he could see the resemblance then perhaps she wasn't crazy afterward. She smiled lightly to herself and promised that she would look up Hermione Granger's family tree, just to see if there were any connection the Ambroses and the Grangers. Butterflies rose in her stomach slightly as she realised she would be teaching the girl tomorrow. Minerva scolded herself, reminding her brain that though she may look like Jane, she most certainly was not Jane.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**_

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_17__th__ March, 1998_

_**5**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**They take them to these places. It's filthy and nasty and you're packed in with dozens upon dozens of other people. Disease spread like wild fire and soon you're either dead or sleeping, eating, **__**breathin**__**g next to a corpse. They brand you. Like animals but then that's what we are, right? M for mudblood (I'm not sure what that means. I think it's an insult), B is for blood-traitor and H is for half-blood (these people are treated the best. They get given a chance to get out). Can you imagine?! I hope I get that chance, if I'm ever captured-which I won't be. Years of evading the police and my parents have definitely paid off. **_

_**I still don't know who they are. The men in long cloaks and sliver masks just came into our lives one day and after that they have never left. It's been Hell on Earth ever since. I walk the streets every night searching for food but I can't really find any-there is no one about, the streets are virtually empty and anything that was worth stealing had already been taken. **_

_**15**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**I think there's a bloke living in the house next door to me. I'd never notice it before but I'm sure of it. I had just raided the corner shop and found some salt and vinegar crisps (not my favourite option but thievies can't be choosers, right?), a bottle of water and a whole two bars of chocolate...anyway, I'm stuffing my face and I see this guy just staring at me. Just staring. And as soon as he realised that I noticed he just retreated.**_

_**I think I'll talk to him. He's kinda cute. **_

_**17**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**He says his name is Darfora. Bit of a stupid name if you ask me but he's still kinda cute. **__**Maybe we could get married? (Hahhaha, I'm kidding)**_

_**20**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**I snuck round to one of the camps. Oh, right, I didn't mention that one of the camps were actually quite near where my house (well, the house I'm squatting in) was? Yep, Edmonton-even in the apocalypse, it's still pretty damn shitty. **_

_**There was this little girl who probably could squeezed through the bar of her cage, she was so Goddamned thin. I think it was free time because everyone was out their cages and walking around the confinement. Anyway, she was crying and bawling caz I think her mum died but one of the sliver masks walked up to her and smashed her head against a wall to shut her up. Smashed her head. A little girl! Completely smashed the girl into the stone wall that separated them from the outside wall. It's not exactly a surprise that the girl fell right to the floor, dead.**_

_**If sliver mask had just glanced up, he would have seen me hanging out to the wall for dear life while trying not to be sick. You have no idea how gratefully I was that sliver head didn't. **_

_**24**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**Went round to the place today. The little girl's body is still there. I slipped over the wall and buried her, after dark of course. I'm not stupid. But I just couldn't let her body rot out in the open. It was just disrespectfully. **_

_**25**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**Had a nightmare about the little girl. She tried to kill me. Said I didn't deserve to live for letting her die. **_

_**26**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**I went round AGAIN to the place and brought Darfora with me. He seemed really tense, holding on to some stick (like that was going to protect us). I know it was risky but I just had to see. This time they had the people who were marked with 'M' digging holes and then once they were so deep, they couldn't climb out, they left them there. Before Darfora decided it was time to go, I saw them throwing dead bodies in the holes. **_

_**27**__**th**__** January, 1998**_

_**Didn't do anything today. Had nightmares about the place and sliver masks. Don't think I'll be doing anything for a while.**_

_**1**__**st**__** February, 1998**_

_**Went back round. I know, I know. It was stupid but I brought food. Thought I could share it out but I had to run back home. I think one of the sliver heads saw me. **_

Hermione Granger pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, slamming the diary shut. That was the last entry this person ever made, probably because one of the Death Eaters had come after her. It sickened her no end what those monsters were doing to humanity, they didn't deserve it. They didn't even know what was going on.

She had matured a lot more since the end of the war, it was only a few months but the horror she had seen hardened her heart and poisoned her mind. No matter what she did, it seemed like she couldn't escape from the world around her. Discovering early on that moving about was the only way to stay out of the clutches of the Death Eaters, she never stayed in one place more than two or three days and this place was no different.

Admitting to herself that she did feel a little guilty about the person who lived here before but there was nothing she could do for them and at last Hermione knew that she or he was just another person in the numerous faceless crowd of people who had been killed. She shuddered when her mind started to wonder to the camps. However Voldemort managed to think those disgusting and inhumane tortures, she'd never know and quite frankly she was happy not knowing, it was safe to say that he had gotten some inspiration from Hitler.

Breaking into a violent choking fit, she groaned as her head started to pound and she felt like the world spun around her. Hermione had stupidly gone and gotten sick; it wasn't her fault though, she was simply running after a little muggle girl in the rain. The girl couldn't have been more than five, with a brown teddy hugged to her chest and dressed in a pink dress and adorable little white shoes. She had probably lost her parents when Voldemort ordered his Death Eaters to round up the muggles and all Hermione wanted to do was help her but she had gotten the wrong idea. The little girl was sprinting down a muddy slope before Hermione could even flick her wand to save her; she had been at the bottom, neck broken.

She abruptly jumped up and rushed to the kitchen where she had previously prepared the cure for the common cold. There was five cooling glasses of the potion on the counter, she grabbed one and gulped it down. She had to take ten glasses of the potion every hour and hopeful that would cure it, the virus was after all a mutating one and even the wizarding world couldn't quite create a good cure for that. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the counter as she felt a little drowsy. She didn't like that the potion made her feel like that; it made her weak and an easy target for the Death Eaters but she had no choice-sleep was crucial if the potion was going to work.

Staggering back to couch, she threw herself on to it and pulled her large childhood blanket over her body as she rested her head against the arm of the chair. Throughout her sleepy state, Hermione hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. If she had looked about the small living room that she would have seen a black figure standing near the entrance that lead to the bathroom. If she had looked a little closer, she would have seen the figure had a sliver mask and a small wooden stick in their right hand; almost too similar to the figure that had seen the writer of the diary.

But she didn't and that was her first mistake and she slept with her wand far out of her reach; that was her second. She didn't realize the potion she had taken wasn't the cure for the common cold. Now this was her final mistake.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**_

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_22__nd __November, 1991_

'Whh-ho-who can t-t-t-tell me the pur-purpose of _Knockback Jinx_?' Quirinus Quirrell asked his class of first years, wriggling his hands.

He had been more on edge lately as the Potter boy was now in his class and Quirinus knew his master was extremely happy about that. The night after the feast his master had taken over his body to talk to McGonagall, it was something that his master had never done before and Quirinus was very cautious not to be upset by it. Which of course he wasn't-that was his master and he would willingly give everything and anything to him. His master had taught him everything and he respected him so.

'_Quit thinking, you bumbling buffoon,' _his master chided him in his mind. _'And pick someone to answer the damned question.' _

He almost nodded his head but Quirinus caught himself, knowing it would be strange to nod to no one in particular. Glancing around the hot and stuffy room, he only spotted one person with their hands up. It was the mudblood girl with the bushy hair. As soon as the thoughts crossed his mind, Quirinus felt a sharp stabbing pain in his lower back. He clutched onto his desk and bent forward, just a little, trying to relieve the pain. He had learnt many years ago to stay quiet and accept his pain; he must have done something bad to deserve it-he always did.

'Mmm-miisss, Gr-Gr-Granger?' he stuttered out as he bit back the urge to let out an agonising scream.

'The spell is made to repel one's enemies,' she said, the answer bursting out of her.

Inside him, he felt his master taking control over his body. It wasn't a painful or discomforting process in any way but it was certainly weird, he was, after all, feeling his body slip out of his control. Like he was teetering on the edge of the afterlife, not quite there but he knew that there was nothing stopping his master from letting go of his hold on him and he would be tossed into the clutches of death. Soon he was locked away in a small corner of his own mind and his master had officially gained control.

'Mmmm-miss Gr-Granger, ho-ho-how wonder-der-derful. Fi-fi-ve points to Gryfin-findor' his master said in the perfect imitation of him. 'Nn-nnow, you wi-will be performing this ji-jinx, pa-pa-pair up.'

He watched as his master watched the bushy haired girl sit quite uncomfortably as everyone around her paired up with their friends. Since his master had control over his body and emotions, there were some things that he could feel that his master was feeling, for example, his stomach lurched and he felt his heart began to ache for the little mudblood. He knew he had not felt that so it had to be his masters' emotions.

His master walked over to the girl and placed his hand on her shoulder. 'Ho-ho-how about yo-yo-you and I pair up?' he said, smiling down at the lonely child.

She quickly brushed away a lone tear that escaped her eye and nodded. 'It's only because Neville isn't in class,' she told him, more for her benefit than his. 'It's an odd number. The class is an odd number, that's why.'

Waving his wand in the air, all of the desks and chairs flew up to the ceiling and left a large open space to duel. He told the class to stand so they were facing opposite their pair and should take turns practicing the jinx. The class was soon underway practising the Knockback Jinx and the Granger girl was practising with his body.

'_Flipendo!_' she muttered in concentration as she did the perfected wand movement that he had shown his class in the beginning and as his body stumbled backwards, he again felt as his master's heart-or rather his heart-swell with pride.

'Ve-ve-very good bu-bu-but you mu-mu-must remem-member to pu-put force into your sp-sp-spell,' his master told the mudblood child.

She furrowed her eyebrows and scrunched up her nose. 'What do you mean, sir?'

'Th-think of som-som-someone you hate and ca-ca-cast the sp-sp-spell,' he told her.

Granger, the mudblood girl, remained in her thoughtful position and then her face changed into a look of pure loathing as her eyes swept the classroom to land on the red-haired blood-traitor. Whipping her wand in the correct movement she uttered the jinx which caused him body to fly back into one of the stone walls of the classroom. The mudblood gasped and ran towards him, apologizing frequently. Yet, instead of being angry, his master was _still _feeling pride.

'Mmmm-miss Gr-Gr-Granger!' His master proclaimed, standing up and ignoring the dull ache in his lower back where the wall had collided with him. 'St-stay be-be-ehind after cla-class.'

Quirinus smiled to himself; so this was his master's game! Once the little mudblood was alone with his body, he would punish her severely for ever setting foot in Hogwarts. He could hardly wait-there was only ten minutes left of the lesson anyways. When classes were finished, she had stayed while her peers poured out the door. She was tightly clutching her book bag and shivering, it was plain to any fool that this girl had never been in trouble and it was making her nervous to think she was in trouble right now.

'Relax, Hermione,' his master said, forgetting to feign his stutter. 'I simply wanted to say that I love you very much and I am very proud of you.'

If Quirinus had been in control of his own body, his jaw would be touching the floor. His master had his reasons for everything but this was beyond him. He watched as the little girl shift awkwardly and his master move forward to engulf her in a hug. She had tried to move out of the way but his master held on strong.

'You may not understand what is going on, Hermione and perhaps sometimes when I am trying to-for the lack of better words-_come back_, I may indirectly hurt you and for that I am sorry,' he whispered in her ear. 'I am an old man now-look, my own granddaughter to prove it! But I will always love you, my little Gryffindor lioness, just like your grandmother.'

When his master had finished sobbing into the distraught girl's shoulder, he stood up and tried to compose himself before pulling out his wand and altering her memory to believe that he had just given her high praise and a warning to control her emotions next time she casted the spell. Confused, the girl shot out of the classroom faster than lighting and once she was out of sight his master started to let Quirinus gain control of his body. He would have been overjoyed at that but once he was settled into his own body; his master had sent him spasming into unimaginable pain.

_You will forget what you saw, pest, _his master hissed. _And should you reveal what passed here I will send you packing to hell, so help me Merlin. _

His only thought, as he passed out on his classroom floor from the incorrigible pain, was how he should acquire a Forget-Me-Not potion, in hopes that it would please his master.

_**A Forget-Me-Not Potion: A potion that allows the user to forget the last twenty-four hours of their life. **_


	5. Chapter 4

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._**

**____****I'm sorry for the long delay, it won't happen again. It's just the past few months I've been taking all of my exams so life's been hectic!**

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_19th March, 1998_

Warren Peters was a half-blood and if anything, he was more than proud of it. His mother was a witch, born to the third cousin-twice removed-of the Blacks and his father was nothing more than a muggle; he would proudly shout this information from the rooftops had it not been for the Second Wizarding War. As an under achieving child, he had no eye for politics or heroics and so he always stayed clear of anything to do with the war.

So when the Death Eaters came for the muggles, he did not speak out for he was not a muggle and therefore saw no reason to interfere. Then after a while, they hunted the muggleborns; but he was not a muggleborn so he did not help either side. Finally, they came for the half-bloods and blood traitors and at last there was no one around to speak out for him and though he wasn't captured, from that day forward; Warren promised himself he would do anything necessary to help the cause against the Death Eaters.

The promise however didn't last long. Instead, he stayed locked up in his house, skittish and closed off from the world. He was a selfish man that only looked out for himself; he stayed under the radar to survive and he would continue that way as long as it kept him safe.

The wake-up call came on the fifteenth of the first month in the new year when he saw the muggle girl that had been living in the house next to him. She was so beautiful; blonde hair in boy cut, brown doe eyes, rose coloured lips and scrumptious tanned skin. It had hit him the moment he saw her, the raw emotion. He wasn't sure what emotion it was but he knew that straight away he would try to protect her from harm.

But he had failed. Once again, he had broken the promise he had made to himself and she was captured by the Death Eaters. Wallowing in grief he had often pulled his curtain to gaze longingly at the house's front path, hoping that he would see her bounding up to her house with scavenged food in her arms. He never saw her but he did see another woman, probably a Death Eater come to see if she had anyone living in her house. He'd be damned if he let that woman go without teaching her a lesson for every entering _his _sweetheart'shouse.

This was why he had his wand tightly gripped in his hand, pointing it at the unconscious woman who had been tied to one of his chairs. He had been in the exact same position for over a day now; watching her and waiting. She was pretty, he'd give her that; long blonde hair, cute button nose with freckles dotted around it and plump pink lips but she couldn't hold a candle to his precious Emily.

Emily. Emily. Emily. Merlin only knows if that was her true name, after all he had given her a false name too. Only for protection of course but sometimes he wished that he could go back in time and tell her his real name. Emily had been a feisty one-she always went back to the Camps in which the Death Eaters held their enemies captive. He remembered one time she had actually told him that she had slipped over to the other side of the wall to bury a girl that had been left there to rot.

The woman in front of him groaned and lulled her head back before peaking open her green eyes. They were clouded and foggy and she had to blink a few times before her head snapped to where he was sitting in front of her. Her eyes seemed to drink in his black robes and the fake Death Eater mask he had thrown at his feet and she started to panic; struggling against her bonds. Cocking an eyebrow at the woman, he realized that she was not a Death Eater. No Death Eater would react in such a way to a fellow peer.

'Let me go, you bastard!' she screeched, twisting and turning her chair. 'Let me go!'

'Are you a Death Eater?' he asked. Warren groaned and mentally slapped himself for asking such a stupid question.

'Umm...are you a Death Eater?' the woman replied back a little cautiously.

Running his hands through his hair, he sighed and decided to ask her a few questions before telling her anything. There were spies everywhere and the Death Eaters wanted to capture all their enemies.

'First of all,' he grunted. '_I_ ask the questions here. Who are you?' He pointed his wand to her throat. 'Answer honestly or so help me Merlin.'

'Ma-Maria Clearwater,' she stuttered out.

His mind starting whirring; the Clearwaters were purebloods as far as he knew. They were perfectly fine with cavorting with muggles which would mean that she was probably wasn't on best terms with the new leaders of the wizarding world. So far he wasn't sure if that was a good thing; on one hand he was interacting with a obvious blood-traitor which would mean serious consequences for him if they were ever caught however on the other hand if they were ever caught, he could easily say he was bringing her to them and join their side. It wasn't a personally thing but how was he to avenge Emily if he was locked up in the camps?

'What are your thoughts on-muggles?'

She stared at him, unblinking for a moment before she began replying. 'I-I don't have an opinion on them. I don't like them. I don't hate them.'

He regarded her with a little respect as he realized that she was being careful about what she said. That's exactly what he would do; she was saving her own ass and he couldn't help but relate to her.

'Okay,' he said. 'What about the Death Eaters?'

She struggled to swallow her spit and her brows furrowed as she gazed up at him, obviously thinking of an answer for him. 'I-umm, I don't _mind _them,' she whispered before cringing at her words.

Smiling, he nodded to himself, satisfied with her answer. She was not a Death Eater and she was certainly not his enemy. However though he released her from her bonds, he kept a hold of her wand; he wasn't a fool-it still could be an act but for now, he would believe it.

'Do you like coco pops?'

Recognition flashed pass the woman's eyes before she shook her head. Warren snorted; typical magical purebloods-they can't have enough of their world so they either try to take over and kill the muggle world or they try to understand and be part of it. Both sides were disgusting to him, although he knew which one he _preferred. _She watched as he poured the stale cereal into a bowl of watery milk made from power milk he had stole from one of those big name supermarkets. He pushed it towards her with a spoon.

'Eat,' he ordered. 'You'll need your strength.'

Swirling the milk and coco pops, he swore that the expression on her face could be sad. So far, he found out nothing further from her but somehow he felt like he could trust her and that was dangerous emotion. She shovelled the food into her mouth and the food disappear from the bowl quickly, she almost ate the bowl afterwards, he couldn't help but laugh.

'You're hungry!' he remarked and smiled when she glared at him. 'Yeah, I suppose ever since the war, anyone free hasn't had much of food.' He snorted. '_If _you can call this freedom,' he grunted, glancing around the dirty house he was squatting in.

Maria wiped the excess milk around her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed the bowl away from her. It looked like it was the only solid food she had in weeks. Warren turned his head to the boarded up windows which was covered by the thick blankets he had taken from other people's homes; it was night and the candlelight he used would attract patrolling Death Eaters. The last thing he wanted was for those drunkards to come bursting into this place, wands at the ready.

'You didn't tell me your name,' Maria asked.

His gaze snapped back to her. 'Warren.'

She nodded her head. 'Warren, that's a-'

Her voice got smaller and smaller in his mind and the Death Eater footsteps outside was magnified. Diving for the lamp, he lowered it till it was near none and then grabbing a hold of Maria he dragged her down to the floor then using his wand, he put out the remaining candles. She exclaimed in surprise and he clamped a hand over her big mouth, trying not the think of the possibility of the two patrollers outside of hearing her.

'Warren-'

'Shh,' he hissed, quietly at her. 'Death Eaters outside. Need to be quiet.'

'Oh.'

He held her down until he was sure they had passed. The time slowly moved forward and silence crept into his mind, whispering uncertainties to him. Closing his eyes, he shook the voices out and listened for the Death Eaters. They were gone. When he released her, she had a look of bewilderment on her face.

'How on Earth did you hear them?'

He waved his wand and the candles were lit again. 'When I was young,' he said. 'I went camping with my father. My mother was worrying herself to death so she placed a spell on me that caused me to hear danger when it was close. She forgot to remove it.'

She stared at him for a few minutes. 'Wow.'

'Yeah,' he smiled. 'It has its perks.'

Maria crawled up away from Warren and pulled herself up, cradling her knees while her back rested against the wooden chair leg she had been sitting on. He smiled at her and then turned his attention to the window. This was too dangerous. They could have been caught and it wasn't the first time, over the past few weeks he had almost given his position away several times. Staying in one place and believing it to be safe was not the right way to go.

'How about-how about you leave this place?' Maria said, her green eyes fixed on his brown ones. 'Me and you?'

He let out a crass giggle before slapping a hand to his mouth. Who did this girl think she was? He didn't leave when his conscience nagged him and he sure as hell wasn't going to leave because of her..._but _she did make a very good point. If he left now, there was a chance that they would never find him. Sighing, he rubbed his hands into his face and pulled at his own hair.

'Why should I?' he asked her. 'Tell me, why should I trust you?'

Maria shook her head, scoffing at his words. 'Trust? There is no trusting in this world anymore. There is _them _and _us. _As far as I know, I'd go with the _us _and just pray the individual doesn't fuck me over,' she ranted, her eyes flashing dangerously.

'That's not particularly comforting,' he muttered.

Her eyes softened, a look of understand glazed over them. Authority washed over her body as she stood up and towered over him. 'I'm sorry but it's the truth. Comfort is something we took for granted and it's gone.'

Staring up at her, he took note of her ramrod straight posture and the emotionless mask only cracked by the sorrow and devastation pouring from her eyes, and he knew. He knew she had fought in the war and had probably lost all of her friends and family. This fragile, beautiful woman had fought in the war while he was hiding with his parents, frightened. If that was a blow to his male ego, he didn't know what was.

'Ok,' he nodded. 'We'll apparate somewhere far away.' He jumped up and started gathering a few essential things but was stopped when her hand rested on his shoulders.

'Are you out of your mind?' she cried. 'Every camp has a three mile ward surrounding it to alert the Death Eaters when someone apparates within the vicinity.'

'Isn't that kind of spell illegal? Breach of the privacy law ruling set forth by Wizengamot,' he cried, pleased that he had recalled the piece of information he had overheard his mother telling his father.

Maria snorted. 'In case you haven't noticed, Wizengamot is pretty much destroyed and since the killing curse is now legal under the rule of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I'm sure such acts relating to _privacy _is null and void, especially when concerning people who run from the law of the new _dictator_-namely people like you and me.'

His shoulders slumped. 'Oh.'

'We'll travel to a safe distance and _then _apparate.'

Warren bit his lips and realized how dangerous moving was going to be. It was one thing to be hiding but another thing to be on the run. Exhaling, he slid down to the floor, pulling his knees up and resting his head on them.

'How on Earth are we going to sneak out undetected at this time of night? And what happens when we do apparate to a safer destination? Where will we sleep? What will we eat?! For Christ's sake, Maria, I don't even know you!'

Her lips curled into a faint smile as though she knew something he didn't-though looking at previous evidence, she was smarter than he was. Knowing how those purebloods were like, she probably went to Hogwarts, had professors and been sorted. He would like to think that he would have been sorted into Gryffindor but his actions so far in life told him that the sorting hat probably would have kicked him out of Hogwarts, deeming him unsortable because he was just a pathetic coward.

She walked to the small purse he had confiscated from her and slung it over her shoulders. Fingering the strap, a sly look was shot in his direction. 'Well to answer your questions in order; we are not sneaking out at night-are you crazy?-we are sneaking out in board daylight; I don't know what happens when we get there but I can promise you that we won't get caught. I've been doing this for months and the Death Eaters haven't even gotten a whiff of me; we'll sleep in a tent,' here she paused and glanced down to her small bag. 'A magical tent that is really a two bedroom apartment on the inside.'

His jaw dropped. 'Well-I-you seem to have thought this out thoroughly.'

'Of course I have. Look, I know you don't trust me but-but _try_,' she pleaded. 'You're the first decent human I've come in contact with since the end of the war and I just-I just can't lose you. I use to think I liked solitude but the silence is, well...it's deafening, isn't it? I mean, it's so lonely.' She paused and glanced off into space before chuckling to herself. 'I'm not making sense, am I?'

His heart sunk. If the young woman in front of him had seen him as a decent human being then her life must be ruins, far more that he had anticipated but strangely he understood what she was saying. Before, like her, he had never been a sociable person and refrained from ever really going outside mainly because, he was outcast to the muggle world and to the wizarding society. He liked his own company, it was soothing and he found it enjoyable to ignore the presence of the world outside but now that there was no outside and no one to ignore, he wasn't really sure if he enjoyed the sanctuary of his own company.

'You are,' he smiled at her, sadly. 'You know, I know these surrounds a lot better than you and I honestly think we should leave now.'

She ran her hand through her blonde hair and sighed. 'No, I don't think...that may not...be right,' she spoke hesitantly, her eyebrows furrowed and her chin jutted out and her jaw clenched. He had to admit, she was a very beautiful woman. 'Tell me, Warren, how well do you really know this area?'

'Like the back of my hand,' he replied, automatically.

'You're positive?'

He glared at her; how dare she? 'Yeah, I'm sure.'

Nodding, she took a deep breath in through her nose. 'Ok, with your guidance, I want to be rerouted through every single backstreet there is. We'll avoid any main or public roads.'

Scrunching his face up, he tried to see her reason; avoid the main roads and use back streets? That didn't sound too right to him, what if she really was one of them and she was just trying to get him out in the open-or backstreets in this case-to capture him and drag him back to one of those camps? Then he'd never get the chance to avenge Emily.

'Why? If anything we should avoid backstreets and use main roads,' he cried, showing her the flaw in her plan.

She had previously been moving around picking up canned food and provision he had scavenged and placing them in her bag but after his remark, she stopped and swivelled around to face him, a disbelieving look in her eye. 'Do you even think?' she cried. 'The main roads are the ones that the Death Eaters are patrolling while the backstreets only have one or two of the buggers. We'll use concealment charms and move-combine that with the darkness of night and it's almost like we're invisible. If we come into contact with any Death Eaters, we can kill him quickly without alerting his peers.'

He blushed, embarrassed that he didn't think of it that way. Trying not to look like more of an idiot, he turned away from her flashing eyes and started to pack some essentials; underwear, clothes, some food and a photo of his mother and father. It was taken two weeks before the raid of the muggle homes. They looked so happy and unknowing of the torture they would have to endure. Closing his eyes, he willed the tears to go away but with no avail. He would be strong, he would stay strong for his mom, his dad and for Emily.

* * *

**_Revised: 08/06/2013_**


	6. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**Hi, wow...okay so this is pretty much awkward-considering I'm sure most people thought I'd abandoned this story but it's just that life has been completely chaotic and I had half the chapter finished but I just got wrapped in other stories and tumblr and coursework and just everything. **_

_**So here it is. Umm, hopefully, I won't keep you waiting for the next chapter.**_

* * *

_19__th__ March, 1998_

_Knowing that a muggle-hating, giant snake was lurking in the castle's walls was nothing close to terrifying for little Hermione Granger however not having control of your body just about tipped the scale. No matter what anyone told her, that snake was smart and knew that she was going to tell Harry and Ron what it was and how to kill it. _

_And that was the reason it cornered her and petrified her..._

'Miss Clearwater? Maria?' a voice slithered its way into her thoughts making her jump with fright.

Turning to her right she saw the boy who had kidnapped her, holding onto a large rugsack. He looked so terrified and feeble that Hermione wondered why on Earth she was trusting him. True, he had been the only human contact she'd had for months and perhaps she was a little insane to ask him to come along with her since she could fend for herself however another human being in her life meant that she would have a companion, someone to stop her from going mad, a feat that she had barely stopped herself. There would be no making conversation with thin air, no pretending that Ron was leaning over her shoulder, checking on the battle plans she'd devised and offering strategy improvements, no imagining hearing pots and pans clanking together as Harry made his unbelievably delicious food and no more seeing Draco's shadow from the corner of her eyes as he paced up and down, spouting out all the dark magic he could remember from his childhood and teaching them how to use it against the Death Eaters. This boy, Warren, might just save her. She'd parade him around as someone to fight for, to protect. It would give her purpose in her life again.

Smiling at him, she picked up her wand that he'd had laid on the table for her. 'Yes?'

'What if-what if,' he looked skittish and gulped loudly. 'What if we get caught? What if we are seen?'

The boy's face contorted in fear as she was sure her face morphed into pure anger. Never again will those prejudice bastards get the better of her. She'll live out her life, free and running. They'll never catch her for in her mind, it wasn't even a possibility. Hermione covered all of her bases, there was no way that the Death Eaters would find her-perhaps, in fifty or so odd years, if her plan of a revolution hasn't been put into action or wasn't successful, they would find her bones and only through going through her possessions they would see that they had caught the elusive Hermione Granger. Only then, they would see that a mere mudblood had bested them.

'I can assure you, Warren,' Hermione's voice trembled with undisguised rage. 'That no Death Eater will ever get a hold of us and any Death Eater that catches a glimpse of our passing shadows...will not live to tell the tale.'

His ice-blue eyes widened and he subconsciously reached for his wand. 'Murder? We-we're going to murder them?'

'I'd hardly call it murder,' Hermione laughed. 'If you ask me, it's a damn good deed we're doing ridding the world of those immoral men.'

Suddenly, upon replying to Warren, she was greeted with the sight of her thirteen year old self who tutted at her in disappointment. When had she become so cold and indifferent to taking the life of another human being, regardless of their moral choices? Hadn't she jumped at the chance to save Sirius? But he was innocent, an innocence man condemned to death because of a Death Eater. Hermione mentally shoved her younger self further into her mind; she had no need nor want for the frivolous ideas of morality or being kind to those who made her life a living hell. She certainly didn't survive this far by reverting back to the sheltered bookworm she'd been in school. This world was different and uninhabitable if one didn't have a thick skin and strong stomach. However, she wasn't completely heartless and so she smiled as sympathetically as she could, hoping to explain to him that the general rule was kill or be killed.

'If you feel unable to perform magically then that's fine,' she told him, besides she'd asked him to join her for his knowledge of the area and companionship. Once they were out of the area, she could train him in the arts of combat. It was optimistic but Hermione had a feeling that he would be the starting point in building her army to fight against Voldemort.

Warren spluttered. 'No...I don't. I haveno problem killing them, _believe me_,' he told her. 'It just came as shock. I've never...I've never used the killing curse.'

Deciding not to comment on the matter, she turned her head to scan around the area for anything she'd missed that could potentially help her in the future, she found only one item. It was a crowbar. Stalking towards, she grabbed it and dropped into her small white bag, it was only a feeling but she knew she'd need it future circumstances. Warren seemed to be checking around but from the expression on his face, it was more sentimental rather than useful in nature. He must have spent a long time here for it to have such an impact on him when he was leaving.

As though he'd read her mind, he started to tell her the tale of how he came to live here in soft, choked-up tones. 'It wasn't a rainy day with thunder or lighting, like you'd expected it to be. No, it was sunny. Still cold, mind you, but sunny. Mum would have loved it. She likes that, you know? Dad hated sunny days, he preferred snow. Said that it gave him an excuse to stay indoors. Be with...to be with his family,' Warren coughed up a sob in his throat, subsequently snorting afterwards which lead to snot running down his nose and his voice sounding thick and heavy. Hermione said nothing, she knew he needed to get everything out and at least he was talking to a real person rather than the remnants of dead men. 'I didn't see them get...I didn't see. Mum just shoved me away and told me to run. To concentration and apparate to somewhere else. Somewhere safe. She'd been teaching me apparition. I was home-schooled, you know? I tried but...my mind wasn't focus. I...I'd hear their screams. I heard them beg. I heard them scream before being pulled away. This was where I'd ended up. Splinched, you know? I was lucky, it was a minor one. I lived! And I haven't moved from here since then. Cause all I am is a great, big, bloody coward. And that's all I'll ever be.'

Hermione watched his movements carefully and lunged forward just in time to catch Warren in her arms as his knees buckled underneath him. He was sobbing uncontrollably, hiccupping indefinitely and slightly rocking back and forth. It was then she knew that the true horror of the outside world had hit him; her heart broke in two as his tears soaked her shoulder. Her nose wrinkled in displeasure as his black locks smothered her nose, it was clear to her that the boy hadn't washed in at least three weeks however she couldn't really complain since she hadn't a shower or bath since the Final Battle and while she'd always used the cleaning spell on herself, her muggle upbringing taught her that water on the skin equalled clean. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she patted Warren on the back soothingly and tried to coax him out of his despair because while she was happy that he was letting it all out, this was certainly not the time.

He simply nodded his head and gripped the strap of his rugsack tighter when she had told him that they had better get moving. With wand in hand, Hermione stepped out of the warm house into the cold air of the night. She shivered. Never in a million years would she ever get used to the eerie silence of the muggle world, it had always been so chaotic and busy, even in the dead of night, there'd be someone driving around in a car or people partying, stumbling back from nightclubs, trying and failing to keep their noise under wraps. Even in the dead of night, the muggle world was teeming with life. Angrily, Hermione quickly wiped a rebellious tear and took a deep breath of fresh air, all of the combat spells she'd accumulated over the years moving to the forefront of her mind.

After Hermione had placed a quick disillusionment charm on both their bodies, they swiftly started to move down the street, Warren glancing around skittishly and in the lead. As far as he had told Hermione they were going to Edmonton bus station, it was far enough from the house he had occupied so that they knew the wards wouldn't reach the station but it was close enough so it wasn't too much of a risky move in which they would be caught for gallivanting around the area too long. Manoeuvring their way through a deadly quiet alleyway, Hermione had started to hope that she wouldn't have to duel any Death Eaters and that this trip would be a perfectly peaceful one, unfortunately for her, that wasn't the case as Warren brought his hands up to his ears and turned back to her, pointing at the other end of the alleyway. Pushing past him, she squinted into the darkness and spotted a shadowy figure, the sliver mask wore by the person glinting in the moonlight.

She raised her wand quickly before the person could realise that they were there. '_Silencio__ deprimo__!'_

Behind her, she heard Warren make a horrified gasp as he watched the body of the Death Eater become compressed and then sag downwards. Hermione imagined sound of the splintering of bones and the anguish screams reaching her ears. Since her muggle parents was adamant about her learning muggle subjects to an A-level degree, Hermione knew from her courses in biology just how painful it was, considering the bones were shattering and tiny pieces of it would be cutting into the inside of the body-whoever that person was, they were in complete agony.

'Come on!' she whispered to Warren. 'Let's move!'

Nodding dumbly, he rushed past the body, glancing down once and shivering at how mangled it was. Hermione suddenly became worried that she'd given Warren a cause not to trust her, perhaps she should have stunned the Death Eater instead? No, it was unavoidable; she'd have to kill all of them. How could she even think about showing kindness to those killers? She'd never admit that it always sent a pleasurable tingle up her spine when she heard the fools beg for their life at the hand of a mudblood. It must be so humiliating to be on their knees in front of someone who they thought beneath them, begging. Of course, when she had time, Hermione would always humour them to see how far their cowardice would stretch and by the time she'd finished torturing them, they'd be pleading, telling her that they'd turn on Voldemort and be her spy. Although, some of the buggers were loyal to their Lord till the end, most of them seemed quick to follow the one with the most power and influence-and of course, the one they feared the most.

'Warren?' she asked, softening her voice so it wouldn't appear threatening. She reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder.

He jumped at the contact and his eyes flittered to hers before they moved towards the ground. 'Y-ye-yes, Maria-er...yes?'

'Are you scared of me?' Hermione cried, her voice feigning hurt. Warren was a good man and she did not want to kill him because he was scared of her but she'd rather not spent the nights sleeping with one eye open in her own safety tent. _Please, _she thought to Warren. _Take the bait. Tell me, talk to me. Let me help you like me._

'I-that was some spell casting,' he said before glancing left and right, running from the alleyway they standing in to the another adjacent alleyway across the road.

Hermione did the same and ran across, thanking whatever God was above that he had taken the bait. 'What do you mean? I thought you knew we had to kill them?' she retorted.

Warren turned, scratching the back of his head and shifting from one foot to another. 'Well, yeah...but it's one thing to say you'll kill someone and then actually do it or see it happen. I guess it just shook me up. I'm not saying they don't deserve it but-but, you know...'

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. Indeed, she did know. Her first kill had been the hardest though it was the nastiest Death Eaters of all, Avery, she still felt empathy for him. After all, she had used dark magic to cause him a painful death and that was what plagued her conscience for up to three months afterwards. Although after seeing the evil that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had inflicted on the world, her guilt over their death slowly declined until it was next to nothing.

'I understand, Warren. Trust me, I understand exactly what you mean.'

Warren was about to reply when his head turned towards the left, eyes wide in fear. Instantly, she knew that there was a Death Eater approaching. Beside her she felt that he was trembling in fright so she grabbed a hold of his hand and squeezed gently, both as a warning to stay quiet and reassurance that she was still here, right beside him. Everything seem to stop as they waited with bated breath for the Death Eater to past. After what seemed like hours, the Death Eater finally moved and Hermione and Warren let out a relieved sigh, standing frozen to make sure that the follower of Voldemort had really left before continuing their journey.

'I understand, Maria, that we need to kill them just-well, I need time for the first kill I'd ever seen to sink in,' he smiled, reassuringly and Hermione smiled back, relieved that he was still trusting towards her.

As they came to the end of the alleyway which gave birth to a large grassy pathway that separated the back of the houses from overground train lines, Hermione cocked an eyebrow. Though she knew that there would be no trains running, her muggle knowledge told her that she should at least be a little agitated when crossing them. Warren cut a hole in the metal criss-cross fence and passed through it, waiting until she had done the same in order to mend back the sliced fence. She smiled at him, thinking that perhaps there was hope for him after all.

'Can't leave them clues on how to find us or lead them to where we are going,' he told her after he caught the expression on her face. Warren laughed, quietly. 'Why are you so surprised? I'm not a total idiot. I can run and hide. That's my skill.'

Hermione stopped smiling as she was reminded of Ron. 'I never thought you were an idiot,' she stated in a small voice. 'Not once, not ever.'

Warren grinned up at her and took her hand, squeezing it like she had done to him. 'Run!' he whispered as he stood up, pulling her arm as he burst out into sprints across the train tracks.

Before she could stop herself, laughter bubbled up from her throat and soon she broke free from Warren's loosening grip and started to pull ahead of him. While she had stopped herself just in time to not collide with the fence on the other side, Warren on the other hand had no luck and crashed into it, he stumbled back a bit but caught himself before he could fall. Sending her a fierce look as she sniggered as his misfortunes, he knelt down and cut a hole in the fence.

'Who did you lose during the war?' he asked, suddenly, not taking his eyes off his task.

Hermione found it hard to swallow. 'I umm...I lost everyone,' she said, nodding her head as the bodies at the Final Battle swam before her eyes.

Stepping through the hole he had made in the fence, he turned back to look at her. 'You must have been very brave,' he told her.

She raised an eyebrow, bending down to crawl through the hole. 'Brave?'

'The war,' he answered, pointing his wand to the fence and mending it before turning and looking around at their surroundings. 'You fought in it, right?'

'Yes.' Hermione refused to deliberate any further; she could not have him knowing her true identity.

'I could never do that. I'm just not brave,' he mused out loud, eyes still whizzing to the left and right, trying to find an alleyway they could use to get to the road on the other side on the houses.

She blinked. 'Not brave? Perhaps you should pride yourself on that. A brave man may fight in the face of adversary. A braver man still would fight when all odds are against him but a wise man, a wise man would know when he is bested and bow out of a fight so he may live another day. He carries on resiliently but cautiously.'

Warren's blue eyes caught hers. 'What are you? Brave or wise?'

Hermione laughed. 'I am very, very brave. Stupidly brave, in fact.'

'We'll have to break into someone's house to get to the road. I can't seem to find the alleyway. Jubilee Park is not that far from here. Just behind the set of the second houses, once we get to that park, we're home free.'

'Are you a wizard or not?' she asked, before brandishing her wand and pointing at the houses. '_Divido Callis_!'

Warren watched in awe as the house in front of them split apart, creating a neat little path for Hermione and him to walk through. Hermione had always been a little proud of this spell, considering that it was one of her own creation and while she knew that others may frown on it since she had taken the idea from a dark magic spell, _divido__, _which caused the victim to be cut in half, she couldn't care less. After the sixth year and finding out that Professor Severus Snape had created his own spells, she had taken it upon herself to create an array of her own, as Harry had called them, 'homemade' spells, charms and hexes both useful in everyday life and in combat. She had a long talk with Severus, who had originally been embarrassed that she knew he'd created such dark spells, and followed his advice, spending far too long in the library researching on the topic and interviewing people who she knew created their own spells, Fred and George included. A smile rose to her face as she thought of the brilliant twins, she'd always known that they were smart and knew that they could put their intelligence to better use but they weren't one for the traditional ideas of written exams and grades.

'Wow,' Warren exclaimed. 'What spell is _that?_ Mum never taught me that one.'

She swelled with pride, stepping forward into the path and turning back to face Warren. 'It's one of my own, actually.'

'Yeah, Mum told me that Clearwaters were exceptionally intelligent people. It's in your genes, right? You were in Ravenclaw, right?'

Hermione turned around, not wanted him to see her scowl. She most certainly was not a Ravenclaw and she was definitely not a Clearwater. Muggleborn and proud, now that's what she was. Unfortunately, since she still couldn't trust Warren fully, it wasn't a smart move to reveal who she truly was. As the muggleborn who had helped Harry and had designed some of the tactics-with the help of Ron, of course-that significantly cut down the size of Voldemort's army, she was a wanted woman and she'd heard that Voldemort was pushing for her to be brought back to him alive, probably only because he wanted the satisfaction of torturing and killing her himself.

'Yeah,' she replied weakly.

Once they were safely on the other side of the road, Hermione ended the spell and the houses reverted back to how it had previously been. Then, she pointed her wand at another houses blocking their pathway and preformed the spell once again. As they made their way through the new path she had created, Hermione realised that Warren, who was walking beside her, was acting fidgety. Was he sensing danger and not telling her? Had she made a mistake in trusting him? Was he really working with the Death Eaters?

'Warren? Is everything ok?'

His answer chilled her blood. 'I feel wrong.'

'What?' she gulped and pulled out her wand, making sure she was ready for an ambush. The foreshadowing spell that Warren's mother had placed on him when he was younger was often only activated when the enemy or potential threat was near but she'd read that when the spell was left to fester, it could often bring about strange feelings in the individual when danger was about to occur. 'Warren, wand at the ready.'

A cloud had passed over the moon plunging the area into darkness and Hermione was also starting to feel that something was dreadfully wrong. Grabbing a hold of Warren by his hand, they slowly made their way to the park-the house's back fences on one side of the park was the only barrier between public and private property. They were being led into a slaughter, Hermione realised. She remembered Ron had told her that an open space would be a perfect place to ambush enemies, since they would be surrounded. _Shit_.

The cloud shifted and the darkness was uplifted, lightness flooded the park and the previously dark and grey objects became benches and trees. In a puff of black smoke, five Death Eaters materialised around them, clad in their silver masks and black robes but Hermione had been expecting them and so before they could comprehend what was happening, she casted _fumos duo__5_, a spell that offered the opposite effects of _lumos_. A dark cloud covered the surrounding areas and blinded her enemies, only allowing Hermione to be able to see clearly and pulling on Warren's hands, she manoeuvred her way out of the circle of Death Eaters. Unfortunately, they were familiar with the spell and ended it quickly.

The Death Eaters didn't waste time as one of them shot a curse at Hermione. She pushed Warren out of the way and flung herself aside, while sending a _confringo_ at the offending individual. It became apparent that the Death Eater was a man as his voice penetrated the stillness of the air and as though it was a battle cry, more Death Eaters materialised and started attacking. Hermione knew that she was never going to be able to defeat all of them and from the corner of her eye, she could see that Warren was struggling with the spells being shot at him.

'_Protego__! Fianto Duri__!'_ she cried, creating a strong magical shield around her and Warren. What she was going to do needed her utmost concentration and she couldn't be distracted by trying to dodge cruses. '_Herbivicus__! Leoniortis__ Geminio Decem__! Oppungo__!' _

Hermione then turned her attention to the shield and strengthen the little bubble she'd place Warren and herself in. The amount of dark curses the Death Eaters continually fired at them was weakening the shield and it would break soon but Hermione's spells had taken effect. Vines and branches were curling around Death Eaters feet and pulling them up and turning them over, some trees had taken on characteristics of the Whomping Willow and were smashing the ground continually until they crushed someone and the flowering plants had grown up to twenty times their original size and were displaying violent and carnivorous behaviour. The lions that she had conjured were ripping into individual Death Eaters and snarling at the ones who were trying to get rid of them, at least two of her lions had been brutally killed and one exploded but the rest seemed to be doing fine.

'That's brilliant!' Warren cried, watching the fight between the plants, lions and Death Eaters.

Hermione smiled. 'I think they're distracted enough. So, come on!'

They broke into a run from the fight, occasionally throwing the odd destructive curse, hex or spell behind them to make sure that they weren't being followed. When they were almost half way across the park, a figure apparated a few feet away from them, a smirk on his cocky features that Hermione recognised instantly, Scabior. The bastard snatcher that sent Harry, Draco and Ron to the Malfoy Mansion where she had to watch her friends be tortured for information and then she had to endure the half-demented and sadistic Bellatrix Lestrange. She was branded for life, '_mudblood' _etched into her skin, so that she would always know her place within society and how filthy she really was.

Anger rippled through her body and before she could stop herself, she broke the protective charm surrounding Warren and her, throwing herself into combat with Scabior who apparently had anticipated her move and easily blocked it, sending a wordless, destructive spell back at her. It missed her. Only just. She knew it was a warning and Hermione bristled at the thought of ever being bested by the less than intelligent wizard. Raising her wand to strike him down for ever daring to question her talent at duelling, she was shot in the back with a mild stinging hex which caused her to fall to the floor in agony, an old war wound opening at the hex. Upon turning her head to look behind her, she found herself staring at Warren who had conjured a white cloth and was now waving it.

'We surrender!' he yelled.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she hissed at him and attempted to pull away when he walked up to her and pocketed her wand.

'I'm being wise,' he whispered. 'I'm a half blood and you're pure. If we surrender and yield to you-know-who, we'll get out of here alive.'

She watched in horror as Scabior stalked up to Warren and looked at him up and down, demanding his full name. The stupid boy pulled himself up to full height and stated it which apparently had been Warren Cillian Peters. Hermione wanted to scream and cry and rip apart Warren with her bare hands-with the rage she was feeling at the moment she wasn't surprise if her strength would suffice to break his bones like a twig. How could he? How dare he? In retrospect, she supposed that it was her own stupidity since it was her that had asked him to come along. Long ago when the world was safer, she would have never trusted a stranger but now she had succumb to loneliness and she just wanted a friend.

'Peters, eh? That's a mudblood name,' Scabior growled, snapping his fingers and a parchment materialised in front of him. 'Warren Cillian Peters,' he spoke to the parchment and ink started to flow forming words, no doubt information about Warren and as Scabior's eyes flitted across the page, a sly smile slipped into place. 'Warren Peters. Dad's a mudblood. Mum's a traitor, yeah?'

Warren shivered. 'Yes, that's right.'

'Oh, what's this? Distantly related to the Blacks. Not sure Bella would admitted we've got a traitor in her family,' the Death Eater laughed as the others around him sniggered.

'I'm not...I'm not a traitor,' Warren stuttered out and Hermione had to groan in embarrassment. 'I want to join you. I pledge my allegiance to our Lord.'

Scabior raised an eyebrow and twirled his wand in his hand. 'Is that right? The war ends and you want to join the winning side, yeah?' he pushed his face mere inches from Warren's and sneered at him.

'I didn't actually fight in the war. I stayed out of it,' Warren said, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably. 'But I've seen the light and I want to join you.'

Scabior nodded and then laughed heartily, signalling to a Death Eater who grabbed hold of Warren while another threw a punch at his stomach. Warren cried out in pain, spit spraying everywhere from his mouth and when the second blow landed Hermione heard a sickening crunch as blood replaced the clear spit when Warren wailed and thrashed, trying to defuse the pain he was feeling. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Scabior turn his attention to her since he started to walk towards her. He knelt down and brushed his glove clad hand against her cheek and shushed her, in a mock attempt to soothe her pain.

'And you, my love?' he whispered her. 'Your name, dear.'

Hermione gathered all the spit in her mouth and hacked it at him. It landed on right below his eye and Scabior eyes' flashed with fury as he brought his hand back and smashed it against her face. The blow had her seeing stars and her vision started to go hazy. No. No. No. No. No. She couldn't black out, not here, not yet. Apparition was out of the question since the snatcher was holding on to her; anywhere she went he'd go. It wasn't possible, she trapped and captured and she had spent so long trying to remain out of captivity. Harry and Ron and Draco had all died at the hand of these monsters and now, she was going to cruelly tortured by the bastards and their deaths would mean nothing because then Voldemort would truly win.

'I do hate hitting pretty girls,' he said. 'But if you're not going to cooperate, well, I have to use force, don't I, love?'

'Maria Clearwater!' Warren shouted, as Scabior raised his hand to strike her once more. Only Hermione saw the flash of triumph in his eyes and she was struck with the sudden urge to rip them out of his skull feed them to him as she would watch him scream himself hoarse as his body became inundated with pain.

'Maria Clearwater?' he questioned as his eyes flitted over her body. 'But see, I know that can't be right because I've captured and killed all the Clearwaters. So unless you're a distant relative, which I don't see as possibility, you must be a mudblood. Why else would you steal a pureblood's name?'

'No!' she heard Warren cry, her vision was now entirely blocked by Scabior and his smirking face.

'Oh,' he mock-sighed. 'I do so hate it when a pretty girl turns out to be dirt. Still, that's what one-night stands are for...'

Hermione's stomach churned at the thought of that vulgar _animal_ touching her in intimate places. This is what she was reduced to, a play thing for dirt. She was one of the most powerful duellers and she was outdone by her loneliness and want for companionship. In all honesty, she should have just gotten a dog; it would have been easier than this mess she got herself into. The edges around reality was starting to blacken and Hermione knew she was being pulled under by unconsciousness. Though she tried to fight it, for who knows what would happen to her body when she closed her eyes, it just wasn't helping and the last thing she saw before darkness took over was Scabior's gleeful face as his hands inched up her thigh.

* * *

_*** = spells that I created. **_

_**Silencio – makes something silence**_

_**Deprimo – places immense downward pressure on target**_

_**Divido Callis - to create path in a blocking obstacle***_

_**Divido – to cut something in half***_

_**Fumos duo – a powerful version of fumos (produces a defensive cloud of dark gray smoke)**_

_**Lumos – produces light from wand**_

_**Confringo – causes anything that the spell comes in contact with to burst into flames.**_

_**Protego - produces a shield charm**_

_**Fianto Duri - produces a shield charm**_

_**Herbivicus – makes flowers and plants bloom and grow instantaneously **_

_**Leoniortis – conjures a lion from wand***_

_**Geminio Decem – creates an ten identical copies of the target**_

_**Oppugno – causes animals or beings to attack**_


	7. Chapter 6

**_So, I realized that I made a mistake in one of the Chapters (I'm completely beta-free). Like a massive, kick-me-in-the-shins-if-I-say-I'm-a-hp-fan mistake. Warren's mum is supposed to be a squib but she does magic? Yeah...no. It's only because I've rewritten Warren's back story a few times over, so yeah, I'm terribly sorry about the continuity error-hopeful it won't happen again but if you see it, please review and let me know! And to make things worse, I went Cold Turkey (it's a program that blocks websites on your computer to keep you off them in order to study for impending exams...urgh) on fanfiction and tumblr, so yeahhhh-I was unable to change it. Anyway, I'm sooo sorry about that but it's changed so it's all good._**

**_I own nothing to do with Harry Potter apart from Warren Peters. :)_**

* * *

_2__nd__ December, 1995_

As he stepped out of his car and slammed the door, Thomas Granger pulled his coat tighter around his body and shivered, it was freezing. He was coming home from work and had spontaneously decided to stop to buy some flowers for his wife and daughter. Hermione, his little girl, was already fifteen and sucked into a strange world that stole her away from him but he knew that she was happy learning magic and that was all that really mattered to him. It was really him that persuaded Rose into letting Hermione attend Hogwarts because she was very clear that she had wanted Hermione to attend secondary school before going on to sixth form and then straight to University preferably doing something scientific but Thomas and Rose had no qualms if their little girl decided to do something a little more artistic, the point was, she went to University.

Hermione never failed to include them in her work, whether it was teaching them about spells or magical creatures-some of which Thomas had a hard time in believing in-or hexes and although he was deemed a muggle by the wizarding community, he enjoyed learning about it. Often, on the occasion, he would pick up one of her school books and immerse himself in it and while he'd never admit it, he felt a strange mix of pride and jealousy for his daughter. Pride because she'd been deemed the brightest witch of her age-no doubt since she'd come from a hard working family that held education above all else-but strangely jealousy because he longed to do spells and create magic himself.

Stepping into the large store, he rubbed his hands together, thankfully of the little warmth its heaters provided. Making his way to the aisle with gardening tools, seeds, fresh flowers and plants, Thomas mused about his daughter's odd little friend, the one called Harry Potter. After having a delightfully odd and pleasant conversation with Arthur Weasley who, though had many eccentricities by his standard, was a funny and charming man, he had gotten the Daily Prophet owled to his door whenever the paper was printed. Thomas, like Arthur, took delight in confusing his neighbours when they spotted the same brown barn owl appear around his property, he had once told the old woman living in the bungalow on his street that the letters came from his old friend, Queequeg, who was the chief of a cannibalistic tribe in the South Pacific Ocean and they had been sending each other letters because he had been organising a trip to England. Needless to say, the old woman shrieked and stammered out a poor of excuse to escape from his presence and never talked to him again. Thomas supposed he was very lucky she'd never read Moby Dick.

As he neared the flower aisle, Thomas was lost in his thought about Harry Potter and the supposed fake return of someone called you-know-who which was rather funny to him since he did not know who, so he accidentally bumped into an old woman causing her shopping to spill to the floor. Inwardly groaning at his lack to concentration to things around him, he bent down to help the woman pick up her things but they both reached for the same item, a carton of milk, and their hands made contact. An eerie shiver slithered its way up his spine, there was something off about this woman and went she glanced up at him, he swore that her eyes shimmered from the colour of blue to ruby red. Resisting the urge to jerk backwards, he smiled politely and handed her the carton, standing upright when he realized that everything spilt for the woman was picked up.

'Thank you, son,' she said, something sorrowful in her tone caused Thomas to pause.

'That's quite alright,' he smiled. 'It was entirely my fault, anyway. Do you...um, do you want some help carrying that to your car?'

She looked confused for a minute but nodded. 'Oh thank you, son,' she replied. 'Bless you. My name is Merope. What's yours, dearie?'

Taking the bag of shopping from her arms, he turned away from the aisle he was headed and fell into step with the woman as she moved annoyingly slow towards the parking lot but he wasn't inclined to become irritated since Rose's parents were visiting and they made this woman, Merope, look like an Olympian. 'Thomas,' he said.

Merope physically stopped and she swallowed before shaking her head and returning to making her way to her car. 'Thomas, you say? Named after anyone, were you?'

Thomas glanced at the woman and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was one of those women who pried and poked into any and everybody's business but he indulged her, considering he'd crashed into her. 'Yes, actually. I was named after my father.'

They stepped out of the store and into the cold and it seemed the temperature caused the woman to become brisk as she led him away from the entrance. He couldn't help but smile slightly as the winter weather was something that everyone seemed to want to get away from. 'Lovely name, dearie. Say when were you born? I can sense these things, you know. Say, was it 1956?'

Blushing slightly as the woman was ten years off of his actually birth year, he coughed in embarrassment. Thomas never liked when people talked about his age, his wife was fifteen years younger than he was and he had dated her when she was in his dentistry class at University-this was way before he had opened up the practice with his wife-and that, while was legal, had been criticized by friends and family alike so age was always a sore topic. However he was looking quite well for his age, even if he did say so himself. 'No, I was born in 1946,' he stated and secretly waited for the woman to stutter out an awed speech about how good he looked for his age because despite claiming that he didn't care about his aging, Thomas couldn't help but be proud of his body when someone said he looked far younger than he was.

She started mumbling. 'So I was right. Hmm...but you're a squib. Not to worry this happened to my mother, skipped a generation which means that the next generation would be stronger than average like me and...Hermione...I-'

Thomas dropped the bag of food he was holding. 'What did you say? Did you just say my daughter's name? Who the hell are you?'

The woman glanced up at him and her entire body shimmered and instead of a little old woman standing before him, it was a large snake-like creature with pale white skin, red eyes and two slits in the place of a nose. He gulped and turned his head left and right, trying to see if there was anyone about the parking lot to help him but it seemed deserted despite the fact that it was filled with cars and when he turned his attention to the thing in front of him, Thomas swore that his belief in God strengthen as it could only be the Devil that was before him in such a body.

'Such a waste,' it tutted. 'I would have taught you so much. Ah, it doesn't matter, I have Hermione.'

'What do you mean, you have Hermione? You stay away from my daughter, you devil thing!' Thomas shouted at it. This thing had to be magical, it just had to be. It was the only explanation.

'You misunderstand, son,' it said. 'I will care for Hermione.'

He recoiled in disgust and confusion. How dare that thing claim him as a son? It was possibly the vilest creature Thomas had ever seen, obviously pulsing with dark magic. Thomas had read a little bit about dark magic from one of Hermione's school books, it was suppose to make any light magic practitioner or decent muggle feel wrong and considering how wrong Thomas felt within his own skin, he would say that this thing in front of him was probably the source of all dark magic. Watching in horror as the thing pulled out its wand from a pocket in its long robe, he tried to turn and run but found that his body was frozen in fear. Was this how he was going to die? Was this his fate? He had always pictured his death to be peaceful, surrounded by his family. Not once, had it had never crossed his mind that he would be murdered. A bright light emitted from the wand and then...

Thomas Granger pulled his coat tighter around his body and shivered, it was freezing. He was coming home from work and had spontaneously decided to stop to buy some flowers for his wife and daughter; roses for his wife, Rose-which always made her glare good-naturedly at his jest-and some lilies for his daughter, Hermione. Glancing around his surroundings, Thomas frowned as he could have sworn that he was just by his car. In front of him was a small old woman who seemed to be struggling with her bags and his thoughts of his car was forgotten as his heart went out to her.

'Would you like some help with that?' he asked her but she simply glanced up at him a smirk playing on her lips and shook her head. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes but thank you anyway, son,' the woman cried and ambled off to find her car.

Shrugging, he moved in a beeline towards the entrance of the store, the winter weather was something that he hated with a vengeance and yet, Thomas knew that when summer came around, he would constantly complain about the high temperatures. Still as he entered the store, he rubbed his hands together, thankfully of the little warmth its heaters provided. Making his way to the aisle with gardening tools, seeds, fresh flowers and plants, Thomas mused about his daughter's odd little friend, the one called Harry Potter. Hermione's other friend, Ron Weasley, had a father, Arthur Weasley who seemed to be obsessed with all things non-magic and after having a wonderfully weird conversation with him, Arthur had offered to get a wizarding newspaper sent to his home. Imagine his surprise when an owl popped up around his house with a newspaper tied to its leg and imagine his surprise when he saw that the pictures inside the paper were moving!

He had enjoyed it though, learning about the world that stole his daughter and discovered, much to his dismay that his daughter was a bit of a celebrity within the wizarding world thanks to her brains and friendship with Harry. Like celebrities, Hermione had rotten rumours printed about her in the previous year about her relationship with dozens of men. Rose, to say the less, was not pleased but after having received a letter from Hermione who had spilled out all her frustrations and anger at the journalist on the parchment, his wife had been significantly calmer. Now, the newspapers were printing stories of Harry Potter's lies and Headmaster Dumbledore's scheme to overthrow the Ministry. After hearing Hermione's side of the story, he declared that Daily Prophet a newspaper not worthy of his time as their stories were lies upon propaganda upon exaggeration.

Smiling, Thomas just thought how crazy it was that he could think about magic like it was a completely normal thing. He had always felt that his little girl was special and when her letter of acceptance from Hogwarts came, he knew he had been right along. Hermione Granger would do great things, mark his words.


End file.
